


we used to get closer than this

by reinventweather (theadmiral)



Category: Glee
Genre: BDSM, Dom/sub, M/M, Power Dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-09
Updated: 2013-03-09
Packaged: 2017-12-04 08:56:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/708919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theadmiral/pseuds/reinventweather
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A take on “I Do” with a dom!Kurt/sub!Blaine; inspired by <a href="http://archiescrush.tumblr.com/post/44046569455/dom-kurt-sub-blaine-feels">this photoset</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to candidlily for the beta! Title comes from The xx's song "Chained."
> 
> Note: Features anxiety and a not-so-healthy way of dealing. Please don't read if this may trigger you.

Blaine’s fingers tremble that day of the wedding, as he sits in Glee.

It’s not about seeing Kurt, not really, he thinks, when he’s supposed to be listening to Mr. Shue. They saw each other just over a month ago, at Christmas. Sure, Burt had been there, but so had Kurt. He had seen Kurt; they had spoken. They were, for some definitions of the word, okay.

And it’s not about the duet either. It’ll be their first time really performing together since, but that’s always come natural to Blaine. Put him in the spotlight, and he’s almost a different person, campy and ridiculous and the guaranteed center of attention. It’s his performer-headspace, he knows. When he’s supposed to be entertaining, he’s exactly that, no more, no less. And Kurt knows that. It’ll be fine.

But he still hasn’t picked an audition song for NYADA or even told his parents he’d be applying to a performing arts school. His classwork is piling up as he spends his time learning and practicing song after song, only to deem it ‘not right’ and ‘not good enough.’ (Hell, if Kurt wasn’t good enough the first time around, what makes him think he’ll ever be?) And he’s trying to keep the Glee Club happy any way he can, and trying to fulfill his presidential duties, so that both the faculty and students of McKinley get along.

He’s got all these things he needs to do (along with, oh right, graduate, and move halfway across the country to a huge city where he’ll just get lost amongst the crowd, where Kurt probably has a new boyfriend and will only hang out with him once every few weeks, where he’s not impressive enough to really succeed, where someone - everyone will realize he’s just been faking his way through being a frontman all this time) and not enough time to do that, and sleep, and eat. Sleeping is hard enough these days, with thoughts of Kurt (always Kurt) and Eli and Sebastian and the Sadie Hawkins Dance replaying in his head over and over, enough that he takes three Advil PMs every night to fall asleep and drinks a triple Americano every morning to stay awake. 

And if he doesn’t have time for his goddamn homework, of course he doesn’t have time for the gym, doesn’t have time to work it out of his system. If he could, he’d punch that goddamn speed bag twice for every goddamn negative thought in his brain, if that would make it all disappear (but it wouldn’t, it won’t fix things, it won’t make auditioning easier, won’t make that heavy weight of guilt in his stomach go away, no matter how long he punches that fucking bag, no matter how hard he sees his face imprinted onto the side, slams his knuckles into where he imagines his cheek, ruins his face, his nose, his eyes, punching over and over again). 

And anyway, Blaine’s not sure he wants this to go away, because that’s what he is now; what’s left if he doesn’t feel like this. What would be left of him if you took all these thoughts away? (Nothing, he tells himself, nothing worth saving.) Maybe when he had been at Dalton - he had a place there - and last year, when Kurt— he had a place then too. But now all that’s left of him is the rubbish, the leftovers, the parts no one wants or cares about. 

The bell rings, and everyone dashes out to get ready for the wedding.

The bell rings, and Blaine’s fingers tremble, and no one notices.

+++++

He tells himself it’ll get better, just by seeing Kurt, on the way to the church. They don’t even have to talk, just by seeing him and knowing he’s managing, Blaine thinks he can find the solace he needs. 

Turns out he didn’t even have to find out whether he was right. He’s walking to the church, pressing the lock button on his car remote, when Kurt calls him name across the parking lot. Blaine turns, a smile on his face, and sees Kurt beckoning him. He runs over, his heart beating faster than it had been after the dance number this afternoon in Glee. Kurt opens his arms for a hug as Blaine approaches, and Blaine quite literally runs into his arms. Blaine feels a little silly (close to the way he feels when he’s performing, Blaine notices) but he doesn’t let that bother him too much. Kurt’s not going to judge him (though he should, a voice in the back of Blaine’s head says). After a moment, Blaine pulls back and composes himself.

“It’s good to see you, Kurt.” Blaine adjusts his tie before sticking his hands in his pockets. His fingers play with a loose bit of string, and Blaine smiles at Kurt.

“You too,” Kurt replies, in a frustratingly bland tone. Blaine hesitates, not sure what to say (not sure what he can say, besides it all). 

“How have you been?” Kurt asks, smiling, adjusting his cuffs. Blaine digs his fingernails into his palm, still hidden in his pocket; it stings but it reminds him where he is and what’s really going on. He can’t- Kurt’s not actually asking him, not like that. Blaine glances down at Kurt’s feet, though, for a second, out of habit. He swallows.

“I’m- I’m good, yeah. Trying to pick an audition song for NYADA, actually.” There, said and done. Blaine flexes his toes inside his shoes and breathes, fighting to hold eye contact with Kurt. Kurt’s lips purse, and he gives Blaine a calculating look. 

“Blaine?” That’s all it takes, and Blaine’s reaching for Kurt, facade gone. But Kurt grabs Blaine’s wrist hard.

“No,” Kurt whispers, and Blaine’s arm goes slack. He can’t swallow; he can hardly hear anything coming from the church behind him. All Blaine can see is Kurt’s fingers around his wrist as everything else goes out of focus. 

“In the backseat, now.” Blaine waits until Kurt lets go of his wrist before climbing into the backseat of Mercedes’ car and crawling across to leave room for Kurt, Kurt follows, shutting the door behind him.

“Now, Blaine. For real this time, how are you doing?” Kurt’s voice is softer than before, but this time, it isn’t really a question. Blaine struggles to find his voice.

“There’s just a lot going on, that’s all. Auditions and classes, and Glee, and being student body president,” Blaine says, the words spilling out of him. “And my parents don’t even know I’m going to school for performance yet. They still think I want to be pre-law.” His voice breaks on the last word, and he can’t look Kurt in the face. He looks down at his hands instead, but that’s almost worse. He clasps them together - it’s better than watching them shake. 

“Blaine?” Kurt asks. Blaine closes his eyes. “Blaine. Look at me.” Blaine does, and fuck, is he glad he did. Kurt’s studying him, his mouth a slight frown. Blaine waits for Kurt to speak - he’s done what was asked of him. Kurt looks down at Blaine’s hands and then back up to his face. 

“I-” Kurt pauses. “I can, if you want. If you think that will help.” Blaine licks his lips and pretends to think. He doesn’t really need to think about it (he already has, every night, when he can’t fall asleep). But Kurt wants him to think about it, so he’ll sit here in silence, and wait until enough time has passed to-

“Yes, Kurt, oh god, it’s rude of me to even want it but-“

“Quiet.” Blaine stops. Not just his mouth, but all of him: his hands still, and his body feels leaden, held in that exact spot. His brain tells him that really, if he wanted to, he could move, and he could even get out of this car and walk inside the church; his brain tells him he’s fully capable of it, and Blaine knows that if he wanted to go, Kurt would step aside and let him. But that’s his brain, and his brain is what keeps him awake at night and on edge during the day. Blaine doesn’t move. 

Kurt reaches across the back seat and takes both of Blaine’s hands in his own and studies them. Kurt’s skin his warm against Blaine’s, and Blaine shakes, a little.

“Stop that,” Kurt replies, voice still soft. “None of that tonight. I’m here, I’ll take care of you. I don’t want you working yourself up all evening.”

Blaine smiles, eyes focused on Kurt’s. The more he watches Kurt, the more he just listens, the quieter his head gets and the easier it is to breathe, in and out, in and out. Kurt laces their fingers together, thumb pressing against Blaine’s pulse. 

“I’m going to kiss you now,” Kurt says, matter-of-factly. “And then we’re going to get out of this car and go watch our Glee director get married. We’ll sing our song, eat some cake, and dance to really cheesy music. Then we’ll go upstairs to my hotel room. I’m going back to New York in a few days; this doesn’t change that. Okay?” 

Kurt looks back up at Blaine, and Blaine knows he’s double-checking, making sure that Blaine really wants this, a taste of what was without having all of it back.

“Okay.”


	2. Chapter 2

Kurt grins as they climb off the stage after their number (and god, how reassuring is it for Blaine to know that they still click in front of an audience, even now, after everything), and Blaine knows it's because the spread of desserts. Kurt's sweet tooth is one of Blaine's favorite things about him. Blaine used to bring him an eclair in the morning before school, just to watch his face light up. That was back when Blaine knew he could make Kurt happy, even if it was just through breakfast pastries. He didn't have to worry about saying the wrong thing or making the wrong move; Kurt had been very clear what he had wanted from Blaine, and Blaine had been more than happy to fulfill Kurt's expectations. Blaine's still watching Kurt when Tina approaches Kurt, lips pursed. Blaine can't follow the conversation but when Tina looks over at Blaine gawking at the two of them, Blaine decides this probably isn't a conversation he should be watching. 

Blaine heads to the bar for Kurt's punch. He wishes he could have a glass of wine (or two or more) but with the people in this room, he knows he'd never get away with it. And even if he wasn't _caught_ by any adult in this room, Kurt wouldn't like it very much. Tomorrow, Kurt will be back in New York, and Blaine can drink all he wants (which isn't a lot or very often - just sometimes he has those days where his brain won't shut down, and a stolen beer or a snuck glass of wine helps with that). But tonight, Kurt's here, and Blaine is going to have punch.

Blaine thumbs his wrist, waiting for the bartender to notice him. Even though it had been hours ago, before the song and even before the (lack of) ceremony, he can still feel Kurt’s fingers pressing into his skin. He chances another look over at Kurt, still in a very heated conversation with Tina. It’s good that he’s here, Blaine tells himself. Seeing Kurt is always going to be difficult, but Kurt’s still his- everything, he thinks, before correcting himself- best friend. Kurt sees parts of him that no one’s even bothered to notice. He’s not just Blaine Warbler, performer extraordinaire, always up for a silly group number. Even when it had been over a month since they’d seen each other last (and even longer before that), it took Kurt less than a minute to realize what the rest of Glee hadn’t seen every single day before then. 

And on top of that, Kurt fixed it (okay, he didn’t really, Blaine thinks, he’s not really the kind of broken than can be fixed). It makes Blaine a little angry, actually, that all it takes is a heated car make-out with Kurt to put his mind to right, when Blaine can’t do a damn thing for himself. But his thoughts go a little foggy when he remembers Kurt pushing him down onto his back, telling him to shut up. That’s something he can focus on, Kurt’s weight pressing down on top of him, fingers grabbing his hips hard enough to bruise (Blaine hasn’t checked yet, but he hopes). Running his tongue across his lower lip, Blaine can still feel Kurt biting down hard, sharp and painful and real.

Blaine scans the room for Kurt, and since he’s eating a cupcake, not bitching at Tina (Blaine makes a note to ask what that was about), Blaine decides he’s probably welcome back. Kurt smiles as Blaine hands him his punch, but it’s clear to Blaine that Kurt’s thinking carefully about something. Blaine doesn’t ask (he’s not allowed, not anymore, to know what Kurt’s thinking) and Kurt doesn’t volunteer. Instead, Kurt downs the glass and grabs Blaine’s hand, pulling him onto the dance floor.

++++++

Blaine has to admit he’s surprised - he thought that maybe he’d a get a song or two with Kurt before Kurt would go and spend time with the rest of his McKinley friends before finding Blaine as the night closed, but Kurt has barely left his side all night. They’re wrapped around each other as Rachel and Finn sing their feelings for one another (at least, their feelings this week) from the stage. Blaine can feel Kurt’s breath against his neck, his fingers playing with Blaine’s collar. Blaine presses closer toward Kurt and tilts his head just a tiny bit, giving Kurt access to his neck. 

Kurt shifts against him, dragging his fingernails along Blaine’s collarbone. Blaine can feel every place Kurt is touching him - hands on his back, arms on his shoulder, their thighs pressed together. It’s easy to forget what’s going on; Blaine wants so much to pretend that everything’s alright, that they’re at prom last year, and they’re just as close as they’ve ever been. 

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” Kurt whispers. Blaine pulls back, just a little, to look at his face.

“Nothing, just-”

“Just?”

“The last time we danced like this was almost a year ago, at prom. That’s all.” Kurt surveys Blaine, and Blaine has never felt more on display. Blaine looks down for a second and then back up to Kurt’s face.

“Thanks for doing this,” Blaine says. “I know it’s not what you had planned this weekend. I just really appreciate it, that’s all.”

“You have no idea what I had planned for this weekend, Blaine. But you’re welcome.” And with that, Kurt pulls Blaine back in, one hand holding onto the back of his neck. Blaine wraps his arms around Kurt’s waist; he knows under his hands beneath his jacket, Kurt’s shirt is all wrinkled from where Blaine pulled at it earlier in the car. Blaine remembers Kurt pulling on his tie and sucking on his neck, certainly leaving a mark that Blaine will be able to see as soon as he sheds his shirt. 

Blaine sighs against Kurt, moving just so slightly and- Blaine swallows. Kurt’s hard against his thigh, here, in front of everyone. Kurt’s fingers play with the hair on the back of his head (Kurt learnt long ago it’s the one place where Blaine doesn’t have to gel it down), and Blaine does his best not to press in closer and rut against Kurt’s thigh. Instead he closes his eyes and lets Kurt lead as they sway alongside the other couples.

“You know, I have a room upstairs,” Kurt says, offhandedly. 

“Yeah?” Blaine asks, though it’s really more of a croak.

“I wouldn’t have said it if it weren’t true,” Kurt smirks. “Come upstairs?”

+++++++

As soon as they get in the door, Kurt shoves Blaine onto the bed and climbs on top of him. He licks into Blaine’s mouth, pressing his wrists down onto the mattress. Blaine feels his muscles give out, Kurt’s weight holding him in place. He whimpers as Kurt sits up.

“Patience, baby,” Kurt tells him as he climbs off the bed to hang up his jacket, and Christ, Kurt hasn’t called him that in months - since before he went to New York at least. Blaine watches Kurt as he heads into the bathroom and listens as Kurt rummages around in there.

“I asked Mercedes for help, and she definitely came through for us,” Kurt says, coming out of the bathroom with condoms and a bottle of lube. Blaine bites his lower lip, still flat on the bed, hands where Kurt placed them. He could move, probably, but just the thought of doing something that Kurt doesn’t want makes his stomach turn. Kurt looks over and smiles.

“Why don’t you get out of those clothes?” Kurt says, and Blaine can’t comply fast enough. Blaine can feel Kurt watching him as he sits up on the bed, the hair on Blaine’s stomach on display as he pulls his undershirt off over his head. Blaine smiles, a little breathless, as he undoes his fly and kicks off his pants and underwear in one go. His cock is hard against his stomach, but that’s the last thing on Blaine’s mind; he just wants to touch Kurt. Kurt smiles, moving closer to the bed. 

“Tempo?” Kurt asks, and Blaine’s heart jumps into his throat. Only Kurt would double check their safewords when they haven’t even done anything. 

“Allegro- god, Kurt, I asked you, remember?” Kurt climbs onto the bed carefully, one hand on Blaine’s chest and kisses him, soft and sweet. He reaches over the side of the bed and picks up Blaine’s skinny tie.

“I hate you in these things,” Kurt says. “You in a regular tie just seems wrong, somehow.” He maneuvers Blaine’s arms above his head and begins wrapping the tie around his wrists and looping it around the headboard. “Unless it’s a Warbler tie, I suppose. But it’s been a while since I’ve seen you in that outfit.” Kurt knots the ends together and sits back to admire his handiwork. “Come on, try it.”

Kurt’s gotten a lot better at knots since they first started doing this; the first time Kurt tried to tie Blaine to the bed, the scarf gave three minutes into it. But Blaine pulls away from the headboard, and this time, the knot holds. Blaine tries again - he know it won’t be any different, but he loves the feeling of being put in his place. Knowing Kurt tied him up, put him right here, and wants him right where he is settles something in Blaine’s stomach. His breaths shorten, and Blaine looks up at Kurt.

“You look good, baby,” Kurt says before kissing him hard. Blaine can barely keep up, his mind foggy, thoughts stuck on the way Kurt’s fingernails are trailing up and down his stomach. Kurt licks his way down Blaine’s throat, biting down on his collar bone _hard_. Blaine shouts, his hips jerking up. He pants an apology as Kurt sucks on the teethmarks, a bruise already forming. Kurt hums and kisses Blaine sweetly.

"I haven't told you to stay still yet, no need to apologize," Kurt replies, pinching one of Blaine's nipples. "But now that you've reminded me, don't move." Kurt's voice sharpens on the last two words. 

Blaine can hear Kurt speak, but it's a struggle to make out his words until that last command. Blaine's lost in his own head; only the pull of the tie and the sound of Kurt's voice keep him grounded. He relaxes his muscles, imagining each part of him filling with lead, holding him in place. That’s all he has to do: concentrate on not moving; that’s all that Kurt wants from him, and it’s something that he knows he can do. Kurt’s hand trails up and down his chest, nails lightly scratching white lines into his skin. Blaine loses track of how long Kurt takes (and the slightly conscious voice in the back of his head speaks up to say that it doesn’t matter, that Kurt can take as long as he likes).

Kurt leans down and gives Blaine a sweet kiss. “I love your mouth. First time I saw you, I couldn’t believe how talented it was. Little did I know...” Kurt kisses him again before straddling Blaine and sliding up, the fabric of his pants rough against Blaine’s shoulders. Unzipping his fly, Kurt takes himself out; Blaine doesn’t even try to suppress his moan. Kurt traces Blaine’s lower lip with his thumb.

“Open up for me, baby,” Kurt says. Blaine licks his lips and does as he’s told. Kurt slides into his mouth, slowly but confidently; that first taste is sharp and exactly as Blaine remembers. He sucks the head of Kurt’s cock, as best as he can while trying to stay still, and whimpers for more. Kurt chuckles lightly before moving faster, fucking into Blaine’s mouth. With every thrust, Blaine can feel Kurt his the back of his throat; it’s all Blaine can do to keep from gagging, but he knows he can do this (do this for Kurt) if he just concentrates hard enough. Kurt moans above him, soft and low, and Blaine tries to open his throat even more, wanting as much of Kurt in him as possible. 

“Not yet,” Kurt says, pulling back, cock resting on Blaine’s lips. “I’m going to fuck you first.” And suddenly, blindingly, Blaine wants nothing more than to feel Kurt stretch him open and fuck him hard; he wants Kurt to make it so when Blaine wakes up every morning this week to go back to McKinley (the last place he wants to be), Blaine knows how much he belongs to Kurt. 

Blaine waits, looking up at Kurt looking down at him. His arms are starting to sting, and his thighs are tense from trying to keep painfully still, but all Blaine wants is to freeze this second, Kurt straddling his chest and looking down at Blaine, eyes serious. Blaine takes a deep breath, Kurt rising as air enters Blaine’s lungs. 

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” Kurt asks (and this time, it’s actually a question, something that strikes Blaine), still looking into Blaine’s eyes.

Blaine struggles to find his voice, and then struggles to find the words; it’s not that he doesn’t have things to say to Kurt, but none of them matter, right now. None of it matters except this. “Still yours,” he manages, his voice raspy. Kurt closes his eyes, lips tight, before taking Blaine’s mouth in a possessive kiss, biting his lower lip. 

“Fuck, Blaine,” Kurt says, pulling his pants off, their knees knocking together. He reaches for the lube and pops the top open, squeezing some out into his palm. Pulling back, Kurt coats his fingers and heaves Blaine’s hips up. Blaine does his best to hold his legs out of Kurt’s way, but his thighs tremble a little from the added strain. A finger rests against Blaine’s hole, and Blaine lets out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. Kurt pauses.

“Tempo?” Blaine has to think for a moment before he remembers what Kurt is asking.

“Allegro, please,” Blaine whimpers. “Kur-” And with that, Kurt pushes his finger in, as far as he can manage. Blaine cries out, head falling back, arms pulling against the tie. Kurt works that finger in and out of him a few more times before adding another, moving quickly enough that it stings a little more than when Blaine does it to himself (usually late at night, home, thinking about Kurt’s lips and voice and eyes). It’s hard not to push against Kurt’s fingers, but Blaine does his best, knowing that Kurt wants him to stay still. Kurt hushes him, his other hand rubbing his hip soothingly.

“Don’t worry, baby, I got you,” Kurt murmurs, kissing the inside on Blaine’s thigh. “Move if you need to.” Blaine swallows, struggling to get himself under control. It’s working until Kurt digs his fingernails into the skin right above Blaine’s hipbone, and Blaine’s gone. He feels like he’s on a merry-go-round, spinning and spinning, everything a blur except what’s on the wheel with him ( _Kurt Kurt Kurt Kurt Kurt_ shouts the mantra in his head). Blaine can hardly tell when Kurt adds a third finger, and before too long, Kurt is hovering over him, shirt still draped around his shoulders. 

Kurt kisses Blaine as he presses into him, and Blaine wants to cry. He wraps his legs around Kurt’s back, pulling the full weight of Kurt down on top of him. The stretch burns as Kurt slides all the way in, and it’s all Blaine can concentrate on, Kurt overwhelmingly _everywhere_. Kurt fucks into him, slowly at first, but soon speeding up, Blaine trying desperately to match his rhythm, to keep up with the boy- man that has always been one step ahead of him in everything. 

Blaine’s not sure what to focus on: Kurt’s hand at his waist, or the other one next to his head, holding Kurt up; or the sounds Kurt is making, low and guttural; or the smell of Kurt’s skin, sweat, sex; or the taste of Kurt’s mouth (and what’s left from his cock, sharp and salty); or the way Kurt pushes into him, hard and assured; or the thousand other things that hold Blaine’s attention for a second before something else distracts him. Kurt is everywhere, is everything Blaine can even imagine thinking, and Blaine is so close to coming, his cock pressing against their stomachs.

Blaine does his best to hold out and concentrates on not coming - Kurt would want him to wait, he’s more certain of that than anything else right now. Their rhythm falters, and with a few more thrusts, Kurt comes, biting down hard on Blaine’s shoulder. Blaine squeezes around him, waiting as patiently as he can. Kurt pulls out and ties off the condom (when did that happen Blaine wonders), getting up to throw it in the trash. Blaine wrenches his eyes shut, trying to keep control, and he only opens them again when he hears Kurt sigh. 

“You’re gorgeous like this. I should go back downstairs and leave you up here waiting for me, tied to the bed and hard,” Kurt says as the climbs back onto the bed, but Blaine hardly has time to react to that before Kurt wraps a hand around him and pulls. “It’s okay, you can come, if you wan-”

Blaine does, streaking his chest with come. Kurt strokes him through it, a grounding hand on Blaine’s thigh. Kurt’s whispering, something about being good and lovely, but Blaine can’t keep track, so he just closes his eyes and concentrates on the cadence as he comes down, his whole body sore all of a sudden. He can feel his hands being untied and Kurt’s fingers as they massage his stiff wrists. Kurt disappears into the bathroom for a second but returns with a warm washcloth; he carefully cleans Blaine’s chest, cock, ass, careful not to press too hard. 

Once Blaine is clean, Kurt lies down and pulls Blaine against his chest, spooning around him. They lie there for a long time

++++++

Blaine makes his way back to the wedding, Kurt’s pre-tied bowtie around his neck (his own has disappeared, and since he Kurt had left without one, he suspects it’s in Kurt’s pocket). He likes wearing it; even though they aren’t back together - Kurt had made that perfectly clear - it’s something to signify...something. It means something, Blaine is sure of it, even though he’s not sure exactly what that something may be. 

The moment he enters the reception hall, he scans the room for Kurt, but Kurt is nowhere to be seen. Instead of standing awkwardly in the doorway, he moves toward refreshments, actually determined to drink some punch this time. As he’s pouring a glass however, a hand rests on his lower back and voice whispers in his ear. 

“You doing alright?” Kurt asks, ever the gentleman. Blaine doesn’t know how to express what he’s feeling. He’s happy tonight happened, but the thought that Blaine will wake up alone tomorrow, Kurt on a plane back to New York, churns something in his stomach and makes the punch wholly unappetizing, no matter how thirsty Blaine may be. 

“I’m...okay,” Blaine replies, turning to face Kurt. Kurt’s looking directly at him, eyes sincere. Blaine tries his best to smile, but it’s a half-assed attempt at best, and Blaine knows that Kurt knows it.

“Well, I thought you’d like to know. I changed my return flight; I’m not leaving until Sunday,” Kurt says, somewhat hesitantly. “We don’t have to see each other this weekend, if you don’t want to. I’m perfectly happy to spend it with my dad. I just thought you might not want to be alone.”

Blaine smiles and tangles their fingers together. “This weekend, then.”

He’ll take what he can get.


End file.
